A Magic of Twilight

Horses nickered quietly somewhere close. He felt chilled, his body shivering uncontrollably. “Careful,” the voice said. “You’re been hurt.”

“So cold. .”

“You’re feverish, Commandant. Here, drink some more of the broth. .”

He did, and he slept again.

. . they were talking about him, as if he couldn’t hear them. “. . going to die?”

“That’s in Cenzi’s hands. I can’t do any more for him. The infection has him.”

“How long does he have?”

“Another day. Maybe two.”

“We’ll reach Nessantico in the morning. Perhaps someone there? The Kraljiki’s healer?”

“He’s beyond the skills of any healer, A’Offizier ca’Montmorte.

There is only Cenzi’s Will now.”

Wait, Sergei wanted to shout. There’s something I have to tell the Kraljiki, something he must know. . but he couldn’t open his eyes or force his mouth to open and even the effort of thinking about it sent him reeling into darkness.

. . someone was chanting and he could feel hands touching his chest, his neck. The hands were cold, and the heat that burned him from the inside flowed toward his heart and those hands, rushing away from him.

He took in a long, shuddering breath. Along his spine, needles stabbed at his skin, pulling as he arched his back shouting with the agony of it, but even the pain was rushing away toward those hands and the voice speaking in words he could not understand. His eyelids flew open, and he stared into Ana cu’Seranta’s face. Her own eyes were closed, and it was her voice that he heard and her hands on his bare chest. Her presence was the only refuge in a world that was on fire, and she was taking in the fire. Sergei gasped with the wonder of it, and he sighed when she pulled her hands away from him.

“Welcome back, Commandant,” she said before her eyes rolled back and her knees collapsed under her. A man-Envoy ci’Vliomani, he realized-rushed forward to help her, placing her in a chair beside the bed. Sergei pushed himself up with his elbows: he could move, though his joints were stiff and protesting, and the skin of his back still pulled strangely, though no longer painfully. His wounded leg was splinted and wrapped as well. Another person- Renard-came forward to place a pillow behind him, so that he could sit comfortably. He had time to take in his surroundings: a large bedroom, the walls painted with frescoes of the Moitidi, above the large windows, stained glass shattering the light with the insignia of the Kraljiki.

“The Grande Palais. .” he said.

“You’re in one of the guest bedrooms,” Renard said. “And if you’ll excuse me, Commandant, the Kraljiki asked to be informed when you woke.”

As Renard hurried off, Sergei turned to Ana. He saw the broken globe on the wide chain around her neck; it pleased him that the Kraljiki had followed at least one piece of his advice. “You’re not worried that it might have been Cenzi’s Will that I die, Archigos?” he asked.

Ana took a long breath, her eyes closed as Karl stroked her unbound, sweat-darkened hair. Slowly, the eyes opened and found him. “If Cenzi wanted you dead, Commandant,” she told him, “He would have killed you before you came to me.”

“Your predecessor would have you in the Bastida for exactly those sentiments.”

“Where you would have tortured me to gain my full confession.

Where you would have eventually executed me.”

Sergei shrugged. He held her gaze, not flinching from it at all. “Yes,” he told her. “That would have been my duty, and I would have performed it.”

“The commandant always performs his duty.” Kraljiki Justi’s highpitched voice was loud as he entered the bedroom and strode quickly to Sergei’s bedside. Reluctantly, Sergei looked away from Ana to Justi.

“As you did your duty in Passe a’Fiume,” Justi finished. His bearded face seemed inordinately pleased. “I’ve just met with ca’Montmorte. He told me what happened there. We’re as ready here as we can be, and you have our gratitude for that, Commandant.” He glanced across the bed to Ana. “And we’re grateful for your. . prayers for the commandant, Archigos. It seems Cenzi has listened to your entreaties.”

Ana sniffed audibly. “I healed the man, Kraljiki. I healed him with the Ilmodo-just as I tried to heal your matarh but failed because I was weak then and too afraid. If that is against the Divolonte, then I will direct the Concord A’Teni to change the Divolonte, because I won’t be silent and I won’t lie. Not any longer.”

The Kraljiki’s chin seemed to thrust out even further, and his thin mustache was an arc over his scowl. “The Archigos is tired. She should rest.”

“The Archigos isn’t the Kraljiki’s lap dog to be ordered around,” Ana answered. Her fingers were laced with those of the envoy. “You chose me, Kraljiki Justi; now you live with your choice. Unless you prefer the Archigos who is out there.” She pointed to the window, to the sun in the eastern sky. “I’m sure the Hirzg will be happy to allow him back into Nessantico.”

“Kraljiki, Archigos,” Sergei said, and that brought their attention back to him. “There are enemies enough without making new ones here.

Archigos, I am forever in your debt, and I won’t forget that; Kraljiki, I would like to see the defenses here, as soon as I can.”

“Yes,” Justi said quickly. “We need your guidance to ensure victory.”

Sergei shook his head. “Victory?” He shook his head. “I’ve fought them, Kraljiki, and I don’t see victory. Passe a’Fiume had never fallen in all of Nessantico’s history, yet the Hirzg walked through its broken gates in four days.” He grimaced, sitting up higher in the bed. “Hirzg Jan is already looking at Nessantico and considering it his,” he said. “I don’t know that we can prove him wrong.”

Jan ca’Vorl

“It’s like a jewel, Vatarh. Like something I could wear. See- there’s a necklace of lights. . ”

Jan grinned indulgently at Allesandra. From behind, he cuddled her against him, her body warm in the cool night air. Ahead of them, far down the unseen line of the Avi a’Firenzcia, the shimmering lights of the great city glittered in the night, mocking the stars that dared to peek between moon-silvered clouds. “And I will give it to you,” Jan told her. “You can wear that necklace soon, my little bird, all for your very own.”

“Don’t be silly, Vatarh. I can’t wear a whole city.” She reached out into the night and her forefinger and thumb closed, as if she could pluck the lights from the landscape. “But it is pretty. When you’re the Kraljiki, you have to make sure that the teni still light the lamps.”

“I’ll make certain that Archigos ca’Cellibrecca fulfills your request,” he answered, chuckling.

They were camped on a hilltop outside Carrefour; tomorrow, Jan knew, they would have their first contact with the defenders of Nessantico. His army was spread wide over the landscape, the crescent of a scythe about to strike the capital and remove its head from his throne.

Someone looking out from what remained of Nessantico’s old walls would see their lights glimmering in the dark, and they would not think them pretty at all. The thought pleased Jan.

“How long will it take, Vatarh?” Allesandra asked. “U’Teni cu’Kohnle said that he thinks it will take less time than Passe a’Fiume.

He said that you’ve already broken their will.”

“I don’t know, sweet one. How long do you think it will take?”

“One day,” she said. “The war-teni will start their spells. They’ll crush the soldiers and the chevarittai, and they’ll scream as they die, and we’ll all laugh at them. The rest of the chevarittai will go running like they did, then the rest of their soldiers will throw down their weapons and run away too, and this time it will be the Kraljiki who comes out from the city with the white flag.”

“All that in one day?”

Her voice was nearly a growl. “That’s what I would like-because of what they did to Georgi.”

“I wish you were right, but I think both you and U’Teni cu’Kohnle are wrong. Do you remember the kitten you had, how it fought when the dogs trapped it in the corner.”